Puberty and Spending Time with the Mayor
by askandiwilllie
Summary: Henry *really* doesn't mind that his mom constantly sends him off with the mayor. (tw for incest-ish and underage) Updated x2 with properly formatted story, because FFN hates me.


They're sitting at the dinner table in David and Mary Margaret's apartment when Henry speaks. "You know, Mom, it's cool that you keep shipping me off with the mayor." He knows she feels a little guilty about dragging him to this backwater town and then leaving him to his own devices.

"Oh?" his mom says, in that tone that says she knows there's something he's not telling her.

"Yeah." He shrugs and looks down at his plate, his face flushing even as a sly grin crosses his lips. "She's pretty hot." There are choking sounds all around the table, and he looks up to see everyone looking a little green. "What?" he asks, defensive and annoyed. "She is!"

"Henry." His mom's voice comes out as a pained wheeze. "_Never_ say that again."

He glares at her then, because really, he's growing up, and she's going to have to accept it sooner or later. And sure, the mayor's actually older than his mom, so that's a little weird, but really, can anyone blame him? "Why not? You know it's true. I saw you checking her out, too."

David looks like he's actually about to vomit into his plate and Mary Margaret looks scandalized as she exclaims, "_Emma_!"

His mom holds up her hands and for a moment Henry thinks she's actually going to say 'calm your tits' which would've been hilarious but probably just proves that he spends too much time on the internet. Instead, she gets defensive. "Whoa, hey, no, that's not… wait, _too_?" Her eyes zero in on him and he feels distinctly like he's in her cross hairs, her finger on the trigger.

"Yeah, so?" he asks, hoping that taking the belligerent offensive will save him from the humiliation he can feel trying to strangle him.

"Oh my god," his mom mutters, dropping her head into her hands like him finding an older woman attractive is the most horrific thing ever. "He's gonna need therapy for the rest of his life," her voice comes out as a muffled whine and Mary Margaret looks sympathetic as she places her hand on his mom's shoulder.

"Hey!" Angry and offended now, Henry jumps up from his seat, bumping the table hard enough to make the dishes clatter. "There's nothing wrong with thinking she's hot, okay?" He can feel angry tears burning in his eyes and wills them away. "I looked it up online, it's totally normal for guys raised by a single mom to think older women are sexy, so… so just stop talking like it's the end of the world!"

"Kid, it's not—" his mom calls after him as he grabs his coat and leaves the apartment, slamming the door behind him and running down the stairs. He doesn't want to hear her explanations and recriminations. He doesn't want to hear that tone that he _knows_ she's never used, but feels so painfully familiar that says he's a freak, he's crazy. The sound of it tastes like ash in his mouth, and he sprints down the sidewalk, pushing himself to run harder and faster.

He'd never run like this back home. New York was too dangerous to run off alone, especially for the kid of a bail bondsperson. But this is Storybrooke, Maine (Storybrooke? Seriously? Who the hell named this town, anyway?) and the most dangerous thing around is probably tripping on a pothole… and he doesn't even see any potholes.

When he finally runs out of breath, his legs screaming at him and lung burning, he finds himself in front of a white mansion. A familiar white mansion. The mayor's house. It's fate, he decides, because he doesn't actually know the way to the house from Mary Margaret's apartment, but he finds himself standing in front of it anyway.

He knocks on the door, and when the mayor answers, she looks surprised and concerned and guardedly hopeful. "Henry?" she asks, and he wants to just bask in her voice. "What are you doing here?" Her eyes scan past him, and she adds, "And where is… your mother?"

"We got in a fight," he hears himself saying, and hopes she doesn't ask what about. "I kinda ran out and ended up here. Can I come in?" His voice breaks on the last sentence, nerves and puberty kicking his ass.

"Of course!" She steps back and opens the door further, assuring him, "You're always welcome here," and it's weird because they barely know each other, but it gives him hope, because she really is gorgeous and sure, it would be creepy for her to like him _like_ _that_ because he kind of is still a kid, but he **wants**, so he's willing to go with it if she's creepy.

In the living room there's a big TV and a PS3 and she really doesn't look like a gamer, so he can't figure out why it's there, but he doesn't ask.

"I should let Miss Swan know you're here," she says, and he jumps up from where he'd just seated himself on the couch, exclaiming, "No!" Her eyebrow raises and he flushes because it's like she sees much further into him than he thought possible (and also because it's really sexy). "I-I mean, I'll just text her." He pulls out his phone from his pocket, waving it briefly in evidence before sending a message to his mom, assuring her that he was safe, but not actually telling her where he was. If she knew, she would flip, and the last thing he wants is his mom driving over and raining on his parade.

The mayor seems satisfied with that, and they sit together on the couch. He's not quite sure what to do, and she looks like she's taking her cues from him, so the silence stretches. Finally she asks if he'd like to watch a movie, and he jumps at the opportunity to sit with her in the dark. They settle on one of the Harry Potter movies, and she makes popcorn and it turns out just the way he likes it.

Halfway through the movie, when the popcorn is finished, he slowly leans into her side, and although she stiffens for a moment and he thinks he's made a terrible mistake, she quickly relaxes again and he grins. When her hand finds his hair and begins to comb through it, he decides that he's in heaven.

By the end of the movie, he's practically a puddle of relaxation in her arms, and when he looks up at her in the darkness as the credits roll, she smiles down at him and he would swear it was love in her eyes.

That's why he leans up. And when he pushes his lips against hers, she freezes in place, and he has a moment of wondering and then something like air and light rushes through him, along with memories of fairytales come to life, and when the jumble organizes itself in his brain, their lips are still pressed together, and he wrenches back, almost tumbling off the couch. She's still seemingly frozen in place, her eyes wide as she stares at him.

"M-Mom?" he asks hesitantly, because part of him is thrilled (Mom, I missed you I don't want to do that again don't make me leave again I love you) but another part is so very confused. What he was feeling a minute ago does **not** mesh well with his returned memories.

"Henry," she says, shudderingly, and finally blinks.

"Mom, I'm sorry, I…" he trails off, feeling a little sick to his stomach. More so because he still feels that _something else_ a little lower.

He watches her swallow thickly, watches her tongue dart across her lips, sees the discomfort in her eyes, and hates himself for it. "It's okay, Henry," she soothes, pulling him into a hug. "You didn't know."

It's true, he didn't know. But now he does, and he finds that he still wants to push his lips against hers.


End file.
